Frenemies
by Kristina Marie
Summary: Tired, hurt, and jaded, what do you do to make things better? Started as one scene, and grew as the characters wanted to better explain the scene. One of those rare moments where the entire story popped into my head. All mistakes are mine, characters and settings to WEP borrowed, all else the product of my mind, scary place that it is. M for language and situations.
1. Chapter 1

This came to me full-fledged while watching the opera "The Pearl Fishers." Gorgeous music, wonderful story, and strong libretto.

The characters and world created by WEP belong to them. Everything else comes from my own head.

….. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **Frenemies**

The stupid beeping finally brought him back to reality. Still disoriented, it took only seconds before he sucked in a deep breath at the deep pain in his abdomen and left arm. _Oh, heart monitor, right. Another fucking battle. Another scar. Another hospital stay. Oh, and do not forget the lovely pain accompanying it. Stomach wound, that means limited meds. That means shitty pain meds that only cut the edge or a stupid fucking nerve block that means gods-be-damned confinement to bed. I am so sick of this shit. That's it. Done. I am not going to be that freaks punching bag anymore. No more dramatic rescues. No more by-the-book crap. I am 26 years old, and have had more surgeries and hospitals stays than any ten normal people. Hell, between all of us, you could write a damned 300 page essay. When is this going to stop? Never. That's the answer. No rhyme or reason. Not a single piece of logic. Fine._

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes at the vicious stabbing agony radiating from his flank. With a shaking hand, he pressed the nurse call button, trying to hold back the waves of red and black crossing his vision.

"Sir?"

"Hurts." He panted through clenched teeth.

"The doctor left orders that . . . " 

"Block. Now." It did not matter if he could not walk for a day or two, with his stomach this messed up, walking would not happen anyway. The block meant he could stay awake to plan the next step with the guys.

"Yes sir. The anesthetist will be here momentarily."

The man only grunted in return, sweat breaking out on his head as he tried to ride the waves of pain. After about ten years, he heard the cheerful greeting from Dr. Galva as she entered the room. The sound of a brief conversation washed over his head.

"Sir. I need to you look at me. Sir. Open your eyes."

 _I'd like to see you open your damned eyes when you have had your guts rearranged courtesy of an obsessed freak of nature and those same guts now trying to escape constant damage straight out of the skin. Ok, fine. C'mon eyes, open._ He managed to open his eyes to look at Dr. Galva and then waited.

"Ok, here's the deal, I am going to temporarily knock you out so I can put in the block. Right now you are too tense to safely insert the block. Blink if you understand."

A long deliberate blink followed the request.

"Excellent. The doctor's formed blurred as she leaned over and did something with the IV. "Ok, about ten seconds now and you should. . . "

 _Oh thank gods, oblivion. Take me away to the place of no pain. Ahhhhhhh._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next time he woke up, he no longer felt any pain. His left arm burned, but felt none of the stabbing agony from his stomach. Blinking to clear the fuzzy feeling he carefully looked around to see Dr. Galva sitting in a chair, reading a magazine called 'Sleep.' He tried to say her name, but only a croak emerged. The doctor looked up, "Ah, you have rejoined the land of the awake. Bet your mouth is sticky and your throat dry. Just a moment while I sit you up." As she spoke the doctor walked to the bed and pressed the controls to move it to a semi-seated position. "Since you took a wound to the stomach, I cannot raise you up all the way, but enough to give you something to drink."

 _No shit, Sherlock. This is not my first rodeo. Why do all the doctors, excepting Gorma treat us like invalids or stupid?_ He tuned out the friendly chatter as she held a glass with a straw for him to drink. Nearly gagging on the taste, the man mentally sighed and continued drinking until the doctor took the glass away, talking more about the need to watch the amount of food and drink. _Blah blah blah. Seriously. Do_ none _of them look at the files?_ Deliberately he closed his eyes for a moment before she decided to ask if he needed anything. "Yes. Anyone else hurt? How badly. If not too badly, I need to talk about security with everyone but Allura."

"Lieutenant McClain has a broken wrist and scrapes and bruises. Sergeant Stoker a mild concussion and bruised ribs from a hard landing. Sergeant Garrett escaped without injury. Princess Allura has bruising from the restraints. Dr. Gorma has said you need your rest and. . . " 

"Yes, yes. I know the drill. Please ask Lieutenant McClain and Sergeants Stoker and Garrett to join me asap."

"But Sir."

"Did. I. Stutter."

"No, sir."

"Am I still in charge of the military on this planet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then do what I just asked. Now."

"Yes sir, immediately."

The man sighed as the doctor left the room, throwing his right arm across his eyes. _Idiots. Every farking one of them. I am perfectly aware of what Gorma would have ordered and do not care. I am tired of this shit, and it will end._

Tired from the meds, he let his mind wander and dozed as he waited for his friends and teammates to arrive.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Yo, bossman, time to wakey wakey. The rest of us are not sleeping on the job, why are you?"

'Bossman' opened one eye and stretched his good arm above his head before reaching to slowly sit upright as he could in the bed without causing more pain. "Everybody coming?"

"Yeah. Pidge is being a little slow walking, but coming. Gorma fussed a bit about letting him out of his room, but I pulled rank. They tried to insist on a wheelchair, but I swear the dude is learning too much from our fearless leader. Stubborn and not staying in bed where anyone with sense belongs after taking a beating."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, can you find me a washcloth? My face feels sticky. Probably from whatever tape they used to keep whatever they needed in place on this last, oh-so-fun surgery."

"Hold on two shakes. Harder to do with a bum arm."

"Sorry about that. Wanna call a nurse?"

"Nah, Hatchett is on duty."

Both men shuddered, "Take your time. That woman. . . "

"I know. Worse than a mongoose after a cobra."

"Are we _sure_ she is on our side?"

"Not ever going to even ask, bossman. I am scared of the results."

Lance finally managed to wet and slightly wring out a washcloth without using his bum arm. Keith gratefully used it front and back to clean his face and neck, before wiping off his hands. Tossing it onto the table next to him he sighed. "Are you as tired of this shit as I am?"

"Yes!" came the resounding response from the doorway. Keith looked over at the doorway and grinned, the other two remaining members of the original team stood in the doorway, the green pilot leaning heavily on the yellow, looking a little green around the gills.

"Ok, then I officially propose we implement plan 'We came up with it drunk, but I bet we could make it work anyway.'"

"That is such a terrible name, who came up with it anyway?"

"Um, I think it was consensus? I don't remember, that was the night we found that hidden compartment in the library filled with those bottles of whatever we drank."

"Good point. Ok, back to the motion. Is there a second?"

The big man in the doorway held a hand, "So seconded."

"Any discussion?"

"No."

"Nope."

"No siree bob. I think it is a fine and dandy plan with a 5.7% chance of success."

"Noted. Ok, all in favor?"

All five men called "Aye."

"No opposed, motion carried. Operation 'Drunk' to commence."

"Boss, being that I have a concussion and all, can we delay start until I can look at a computer screen without wanting to throw up?"

"Well, considering it will be several weeks before I am at full capacity, I _suppose_ I can cut you some slack.

"Good, then I am going to go back to my room, throw-up, and then sleep for a week."

"Dismissed, then."

The yellow and green pilots slowly turned and made their way at Pidge's shuffling pace toward his room, leaving the other two pilots.

"Well, since you seem bright eyed and bushy tailed, oh glorious leader, and we do not want any notes, shall we discuss?"

"Yes. First, I need you to reach out to Collund on Planet Norva. . . "

The two men proceeded to speak for the next two hours about the beginnings of the end. Or so they hoped.

. .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lotor, Crowned Prince of Doom scowled into his goblet, ignoring the dancing girl directly in front of him. _Again. And again. And again. What is the point of continuing to go after that stupid planet? Why does 'dear-old-dad' have such a stupid obsession with one little planet. It is not like they have anything worthwhile these days. We stripped their planet years ago. What's left other than the lions and Allura? Ahh, beautiful Allura. She would make such a grand addition to my harem. Not that I would let her rule by my side, but she would give me such sons and daughters to rule after me. Once I dispose of dear-old-dad._

A bout of laughter turned Lotor's head to the right. Seated just down from him, near other dignitaries sat Queen Merla. Pink hair flowing down her back, in a green dress that bared her shoulders and left little to the imagination of her assets. Lotor's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. _Queen Merla. Queen of what, exactly? A planet stripped bare of any resources and a dying sun in a dying solar system. Her people fled years ago and live amongst the stars, looking for a new home. Queen indeed. Powerful, I will give her that, but lacks cunning. Smart, twisted, but not subtle. Father thinks we would make a good match. Ha!_

Abruptly, without waiting for dismissal, Lotor rose from the table and strode from the room. With a crook of his finger, his person attendant came forward to await his orders. "Prepare my personal shuttle. I will not need an escort."

"Yes, your highness. When do you wish to depart?"

"One hour." 

"As you command, your highness."

Lotor did not bother to respond. After all, underlings did not require any explanations. Walking toward his personal quarters, he did not notice any of the slaves groveling against the walls or scrambling to get out of his way. _Stupid, stupid me. I let one bimbo cause me to stop thinking through critically. What happened to me? They feared me throughout the quadrant and in the next three galaxies. My name meant horror, destruction, pain and death. Now? Now I am that pathetic Prince Lotor who the Voltron Force defeats time and again. Obsessed with a pretty princess and unable to close the deal. Well to the Infernal with that! Time for me to leave aside the pretty princess and finish that piddly excuse for a planet once and for all. Then I will go on such a reign of terror, they will remember me for the next ten thousand years!_

Arriving at his quarters, he snapped orders to have his belongings prepared for a month away. He would go and visit one of the pleasure planets, gorge himself on blue-eyed blonds until he could not stand the sight of them. Then he would come back to deal with the problem of Arus. He _would_ bring an end to the threat of Voltron and recover all he had lost. Then, and only then, would he tackle the problem of dear-old-dad and his witch. Time to stop relying on her unpredictable magic and increasingly incompetent RoBeasts.

Fist clenched, he strode into his harem, the fierce look on his face instantly silencing any conversations. His smile, devoid of anything pleasant, holding only the promise of pain sent a wave of terror through the room. Lotor closed his eyes and basked for a moment before opening his eyes and making good on the promise of his eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone for following this odd one. I would love to know your reactions. This was, weird. Even for me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The message arrived just as Lotor began what had quickly become one of his favorite games since he arrived on the pleasure planet. Angered at the interruption, he leaned down toward his current Allura look-alike and dragging her head up by the hair to look at him, "Do not move my darling, I will be back so you can continue begging me for more. What do you say to that, dearest?"

"Please, my Love, please do not leave me, not for a moment. I long for your touch, however you choose to give it to me. You are my world, my only love." The woman looked at him with sincere eyes; it had taken her only a few hours to learn how to fake what the prince demanded from her. The more sincere she sounded, the less creative the lessons.

The blue man casually backhanded her, letting her fall to the cushions he had placed for his comfort on the floor before walking naked to greet the messenger. Other than a slight widening of his eyes, the man gave no indication he did not greet naked princes every hour of the day. Dropping to one knee, he lowered his head waiting for the prince to give him permission to stand.

"You may rise. Why have I been interrupted? I left orders to be undisturbed. Regardless of circumstances. Why should I not behead you here and now?"

"A thousand apologies my lord," began the messenger, not moving from his position. "I have only a short window to return with your answer to my master and was told failure to return would bring much suffering on my family."

Lotor smiled and licked a drop of blood from the back of his hand from where he had struck the girl. "Ahhh, a master after my own heart. You may rise, and I shall hear your message." He walked over to sit on a throne, covered in furs. Holding out his left hand, a waiting blond-haired and blue-eyed slave immediately placed a goblet filled with a thick, red liquid into it. Taking a sip, he reached with his right hand to pet another blond-haired, blue-eyed girl chained like a pet to the throne.

The messenger swallowed hard and the looks of adoration the women gave to Lotor. He had visited the pleasure planet many times, and could not imagine what punishments Lotor gave to train the women so thoroughly. With a last swallow, he began speaking, "Greetings, Prince Lotor, Scourge of Grantha, Warrior Elect, and Heir to the Throne of Grana, Velux, and Doom. You will not have heard of me, but people find me when they need information or to make contact though a discreet intermediary. A witch has approached me with an offer for you. In return for granting him certain privileges, which he will discuss with you alone, he has offered you, in his words, "The way to fulfill what you swore to yourself in your room several months ago." I was given no other details, but if you would like to meet with the witch, he has set up a safe place to meet and discuss bringing an end to your humiliation once and for all. His words, not mine. If you agree, please simply tell my messenger yes. He will supply you with the data you need once he has left orbit of Callax." The messenger stopped speaking for a moment. "That is the end of the message from my master. He bid me wait for your response."

Lotor took another long drink, continuing to scratch and pet the woman chained to his chair. The messenger did not let any emotion cross his face as he realized blood dripped down the naked woman's neck and chest to pool between her legs. The man in the throne had scratched her until she bled. She did not utter a sound or move but continued to look worshipfully at Lotor as he sat in silence, thinking.

"Interesting. The staging all set to appeal to both my vanity and my curiosity." He waved off any protest the messenger could have made. "No, no, no false protests. I am complementing the crafting of the message. Tell your master I accept, but will need a few days here to. . . . settle my affairs as you would. You may go."

The messenger gratefully backed away slowly, not wanting to turn his back to the prince. As he left, he let himself shudder as he overheard the prince speaking, "Well my dog, you have behaved beautifully in front of our unexpected guest, come, it is time to reward you for learning your lessons so well." He watched as the woman followed the prince on all fours back toward the one he had left crumpled on the cushions in the middle of the floor.

As the door closed behind him, the messenger could hardly hold back his gorge. He all but ran back to his ship, ready to leave the planet, deliver his message, and never see that prince again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lotor strode angrily toward the tent set up in the middle of the barren waste of an uninhabitable planet. The thin oxygen based atmosphere meant he could breathe, barely. _I cannot believe I put up with this last two weeks just to meet someone who pricked my vanity and curiosity. I must be completely desperate. First, switched between two different ships, my own left behind. Stripped off all weaponry and then the effrontery to have a witch check me for magic traps. Although it was nice to know about the homing spell Haggar had put on me. Of course that witch has blocked it. He said Haggar can remove the block, but that their client took no chances with this meeting. So it will be me and my wits and charm. It feels rather odd to have no backing and only myself. It feels rather primitive and I like it._

His musings had brought him to the front of the tent where an unidentifiable human stood in armor. "Halt. Please raise your hands to the sides," a robotic voice instructed him. The opaque face plate, bulky armor and metallic voice gave no clues as to the gender of the person before him.

"What _is_ this?" I have come as invited, been searched multiple times, and dragged to a destination that I know not, and you _again_ dare to search me?"

The figure gave no other response, but simply blocked the door, waiting for compliance.

With a last thought of walking away, Lotor sighed and raised his arms as directed.

Without a word, the figure ran two scans and then physically searched the prince for any hidden weapons or items that could be used as weapons. "You may pass." The figure stepped away from the door and it opened. Walking in, Lotor found the room to be not much warmer than the surface. It held no furniture, no electronics, nothing. The door closed behind him, and whirred. Suddenly the air began warming and a second door across the room opened. A heavily cloaked figure walked into the bare room. Another robotic voice filled the air. "Prince Lotor. You have come of your own accord. In order to pass through the next room you are asked to swear an oath. Please know that this oath will be backed by magic."

Upon those words, runes lit the room, shimmering softly from the walls, ceilings, and floor. The cloaked figure stood in the only area free of them.

"Please step forward two steps into the circle."

Lotor studied the figure in front of him. Unlike the one outside, this one felt male to his senses. The stance and the shape under the cloak lent a military bearing. _An outside cell, perhaps? An independent power seeking to change their position in the galaxy? Whoever these people are, they have gone to great lengths to hide themselves. All I have gleaned is they want something from planet Arus. Perhaps it is the same something that my father seeks. They seem to want the same things that I do. I have come this far, time to take a chance. My father needs to die so I can take my proper place as ruler of the Azure Quadrant and expand my empire for the next three hundred years._ Slowly, Lotor stepped into the circle. As he did, the runes flashed and then began pulsing in time with his heart beat.

The figure began to speak in the same metallic voice. "Lotor, Prince of Doom, Lotor, named Xanat Koforg," Lotor startled momentarily at his birth name. He had thought all records destroyed and all who knew it, except two, killed. "Do you agree to bind yourself to this meeting, never to speak of it until released to do so? Do you agree to hold all violence, threats, or attacks until all parties in this meeting have safely left? Should you decline the alliance, do you agree to a memory wipe from the time the messenger contacted you until you are returned to the planet from whence you came, with new memories of time there inserted? Should you agree, know the binding will force your behavior should it become necessary."

"I do so agree."

"Then let the binding commence."

With those words, the runes lifted from the surfaces of the room, and settled around Lotor before sinking into his skin. Unlike Haggar's binding ceremonies, he felt no discomfort, only a shifting as the spell found its way to his very DNA to bind to it.

The figure turned and gestured Lotor to follow him to the following room. As Lotor entered, he found a small room with a six foot square table with three chairs on one side and one nearest him. The figure gestured him to take the near chair and walked around the table to sit in the middle chair. Without a word, the figure raised hands to remove a voice modulator before taking the edges of the hood and pushing the hood back to look at Lotor.

"YOU!" With a scream, Lotor tried to leap across the table, but gasped as the binding spell took hold. He found himself unable to move any further as rage and anger surged through his system.

"Yeah, we figured this would be your first reaction, so that is why we contacted the witch. Give you a chance to calm down and think."

Lotor ground his teeth in rage, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself.

While he did, two more figures walked in from a second door bearing a tray with four glasses and two carafes. The man in front of him lifted one of the carafes and glasses, filling it with the amber colored liquid. "This one is Callach. A potent alcohol made from a grain that grows on Orban. The other is Blood Wine from Doom. We thought you might like something familiar."

The other two hooded figures sat in the other two chairs, each choosing to fill a glass with the Callach.

Lotor grabbed one of the glasses and filled it with the blood wine, drinking it in two fast swallows before refilling his glass.

Sitting back with the second glass, he stared at the man across from him. "Why all the elaborate arrangements? What is your purpose here?"

The man shrugged. "Would you have come if just invited? Or would you have tried to find a way to capture our group and use us as _you_ wanted rather than what we want? No, Lotor. We have known you too long, watched and studied you too long to not understand how you think. You want something. Well, we do too, and it so happens that at this time, those needs coincide."

"And what would you know of my wants?"

"You want the Princess of Arus as your broodmare. You want Voltron. And you want the Voltron Team drawn and quartered. After that, you want an end to Zarkon and Haggar, and you want to rule your Empire, secure in the knowledge the one threat, Voltron, that could put an end to your empire building is either destroyed or doing your bidding." The man paused, "Did I miss anything?"

"Noooo," drawled Lotor slowly. "What I do not understand, what do YOU get out of this."

"Never mind that now. Let's just talk about an alternate plan we came up with."

"You mean to give me your precious Princess, _Captain Kogane_?"

"No you moron. Will you just listen to me? _We have an alternate plan_."

"Why? Why now? What has changed? Why should I trust anything you say?"

The Black Lion pilot looked to the two figures seated next to him, who both nodded. Without fanfare, he stood, and removed the outer robe he wore, then the top half of his flight suit. Lotor looked at him impassively, "What am I supposed to see?"

"All the scars, Lotor. The history of our conflict with you and your father for the last four years. Look, I am 26 years old. I have had more surgeries, spent more time in the hospital, and it _never ends._ I may escape some battles unscathed, but I am tired of waking up with tubes stuck down my throat, with the monitors beeping next to my head, and in various states of pain. The doctors cannot predict how much this will affect me fifty years down the road, but already there are days when something hurts. My teammates are the same. We are simply tired of being your punching bags. So, this time, we want to do something different."

Lotor did not say anything, but actually looked at the human's body. He could see thick lines, thin lines crisscrossing across the torso, and some continuing down past the bottom half of the flight suit. White, pink, in various stages of healing, the most recent stood out bright on the left side of the stomach, a jagged line. The Captain noticed where his gaze ended, "Yeah, from the last one about three months ago. Piece of metal pierced my side. That's when I decided we needed something different. At this rate, we will be old and grey and still stopping you."

"While I am still young and then you will be slow and dead."

The Captain nodded, "Exactly. You will simply outlive us." With unhurried movements, he redressed.

"It cannot be just that. You humans repopulate so quickly, you can just breed more fighters."

"No, it's not just that. The ruling council is pressuring one of us to marry Allura to 'Protect her from the Clutches of Prince Lotor and Ensure the Continuation of the Monarchy.' End quote. Meaning, they expect me to marry her and take over as King. Look, Allura is a nice girl and all, but beauty fades and to be honest, I have a girl in town. We are expecting our first child in a few months and I would like to marry her, settle down, teach flying, and keep running the military but not the whole damn planet. I did not sign up to babysit a naïve girl who's guardians would have her locked in a room wearing a chastity belt until the right man comes along to marry her, make her pregnant and leave her in the locked room while he rules. Seriously, we think those two need to go. The only way to do that is to stop the attacks, open Arus up and let the girl out of her room and live a little."

"Wait, what? Back-up. You are NOT in love with her? This is NOT the romance of the ages?"

All three people on the other side of Lotor started laughing. After a minute, they stopped, and one of them blew out, putting down his hood to wipe his eyes, the other quickly followed.

"Man those things are hot."

Lotor narrowed his eyes. "Lieutenant McClain and Sargent Stoker. How unpleasant to see you."

"Likewise, Blue Boy." Lance took a deep breath, "Oh that is too funny. Keith, in LOVE with Allura? See, here's the thing about Allura. She is sweet, innocent, loving, caring, and smart. But she has as much common sense as a pig in heat. Those guardians of hers have never really let her interact with other people, except us and then only very closely supervised. So, although she is nearly 22 now, she still acts much like a younger child. We have never been able to run the tests, but we are pretty sure that something did not fully develop in her brain, so she will always be child-like in many ways. She is actually unfit to rule by herself because she allows her emotions to make decisions."

"But, you let her fly a lion?"

"Kinda," answered Pidge, "See, in most battles it is not the Princess flying. We let her in the cockpit, but she has a co-pilot who actually does most of the flying. It was one of those situations where giving in to her was easier than trying to reason with her. She wraps her head around an idea and then does not let it go. We are trying to wean her off the flying, but have not yet found something to replace it."

Lotor sat and sipped on his wine as he let the information flow over him. The four men sat in silence until Lotor leaned forward and put his hands on the table. "So let's get to the crux of the matter. What do you want? More importantly, what is in it for me?" 

"We want to help you build your empire."

Lotor blinked long and slow and looked at each man. "Excuse me?"

"You heard Keith," replied Lance, "We have a plan to help you build your empire."

"The _heroes_ of Arus. The _defenders_ of freedom, blah blah blah. Want to help ME? The Scourge of the Quadrant, build an empire?"

"Yep."

Lotor actually laughed and leaned back after refilling his glass. "This I must hear." He waved his hand expansive, "Please, enlighten me."

"Right then." The green pilot began speaking. "We know Drules have a very long life span, often augmented by magic and siphoning life force, for lack of a better term, from other sources. We know that Zarkon has lived over 300 years and lifespan for Drule Royalty can be as much as 500 years."

"Yeess," said Lotor slowly, "but this is not common information."

The man shrugged, "I am good with finding information. Anyway, given that, we thought you could build your empire, not through conquest, but through diplomatic agreements."

Keith took over, "For example, Monak Prima has a daughter as his sole heir. In their culture, monarchy does not marry but employs reproduction contracts. With your long life span, you could easily contract a child with the heir, and require equal parenting rights. Since Drule children mature at such a slow rate, you will become the effective ruler of Monak through Regency after the current heir dies. You can raise your child the way you wish and have them take over as an adult. They would have part of your long-life span, and you can pair them with another planet such as Quallick and add it to your empire through marriage. Pidge has done the calculations and created a plan. If you follow it, within a hundred years, you or your children can rule every planet in this quadrant, and within two hundred the galaxy. He also has it planned how you can make subtle changes to the laws of the planets to make you the Emperor and all other monarchies bow to you. Then when you choose to have a pure-bred Drule child, they will inherit an Empire than will continue to expand, garner resources."

"Of course," began Lance, "You will have to protect the empire from incursions from the outside. Other empire builders will see you as weak for not obtaining power through war, so you have to ensure you have the best technology and the best military. This is where you spend your resources. Build specialized schools on every planet. Pick only the best and the brightest to continue to develop your technology and to train in the military. Keith and I have some ideas on that, how we want to build on Arus. We would help you to implement the changes. You burn through your people too quickly. Your best and brightest are seen as threats and are eliminated or put under such strictures, they cannot and will not keep up. Hell, Lotor, your people are in a decline. Your resource use is outstripping your ability to acquire them, in large part because of how we have spread resistance to you and your father. It's time to start thinking smart."

Again, a silence fell over the room. Lotor played with his wine glass, thoughts whirring. "And what is in it for you?"

The Captain immediately spoke, "A cessation of hostilities. The ability to rebuild and rebuilt right. Most importantly, my child will be born and grow up without fear."

"And Allura."

Keith nodded to Lance, who pulled a vial out of his pocket. "We have an alternative there as well. This is a purified sample of her blood, stable, and preserved." He then pulled out a small data chip. "Our wizard has perfected the art of creating clones. Use this blood, and this spell and you can create a clone that will look, act, and speak like Allura. The only difference will be this one can be programmed for certain behaviors. You can choose those behaviors and the instructions for implementing them on the chip. You will leave the real Allura alone and abandon the conquest of Arus for our lifetimes. We will find a husband for Allura. We will also open trade routes with you in about ten to fifteen years as well as begin technology exchanges. If you choose, after our lifetimes, to add Arus to your Empire, well, we will be dead and not care.

"Look, we think you are the ultimate scum, ruthless, and heartless, but sometimes those qualities make a good leader because you do not bog down in individuals concerns but look to the nation as a whole. So we are willing to give you a chance. The agreement we propose is on the data chip as well. If you choose to agree to it, there will be a second binding ceremony to hold you to the terms of the agreement."

"I see. And my father and Haggar?"

Keith reached into a pocket and pulled out two vials. "The red-capped one goes in his drink, the yellow in yours. It will allow a magic user to transfer his remaining years to yours. As to Haggar," he removed a third vial, "This will temporarily block her ability to sense another magic user. When the time comes, you will summon the wizard who is interested in Haggar. Before she arrives, spill it anywhere near her where she will inhale the fumes. This will allow the wizard to approach undetected and deal with Haggar as she will."

"You. The heroes. Condoning murder and kidnapping."

Keith shrugged, "I told you, we are tired of all this shit. Since honor and morality has only prolonged things, we decided to take a different path."

He looked at the other two and looked back at Lotor. "We are done here. You are welcome to stay as long as you like to think about it. The vials are ensorcelled, they cannot pass through the wards with you. If you wish to agree, you simply need to speak the words aloud. Once you do, the bindings will attach to you and we can move forward. If you choose not to follow our plan, than your memory will be wiped and you returned to the pleasure planet from whence you came. Should that come to pass, we will move onto our alternate plan. Keep in mind Lotor, we will no longer play heroes or follow the hero code of honor. If you choose not to join us, your lifespan will be measured in months."

Pidge placed a data reader on the table and the three men rose and left the room without another word.

Lotor poured the remaining blood wine into his glass and placed the chip into the reader. After several minutes of reading, he smiled. As he finished the first document, he laughed. Raising his wine glass in salute, he spoke. "I agree. Let the binding commence."

Fin

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End file.
